


Hvitserk's Valkyrie

by K3K



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Related, Canon Universe, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-03-10 12:32:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13501726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K3K/pseuds/K3K
Summary: She walked into the great hall that night and all Hvitserk could think was that he needed to know who she was because she would be his. He had seen visions of her in his dreams. The gods had sent her right to him and he wasn’t about to let anyone else have her. But what did the gods want for them?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Authors Notes: So this is definitely my first crack at any type of fanfiction and decided to throw myself into the deep end. I may just turn into all the fluffiness but I had an idea and just had to get it out? I hope you enjoy? Yes, I am hyperventilating while I’m about to hit this post button.

Chapter 1

Hvitserk watched her across the great hall, over Ubbe’s shoulder. Long, black hair, as dark as night, braided away from her face that hung to small of her back. As she turned her head, the long locks swing causing the jewelled headpiece to shimmer in the firelight. She was wearing a dress blue dress, that hugged and accentuated her athletic body. The blue of her dress making her onyx eye seem like endless pools. She had her hand tucked under the elbow of her other arm, holding a mug of mead in the said hand near her lips. Lips that are now stained red from the berries she had been eating. Looking closely, he could see bruises along her forearms as her sleeves would shift back in her gestures as she described her day.

She leaned her hip against the end of a table as she chatted with another shield maiden. A hulking drunken Viking from Harald’s raiding party stumbles past her, pushing her farther into the table. She drops her mead, yelping as one hand coming to clutch her side in pain. Hvitserk’s fists clench. Taking deep breaths her head whips around, flipping her hair in the most glorious manner, that even Lady Sif would be jealous. The drunk stumbles back with the force that she shoves him with.

“Maybe you should not be on the field if you can’t even cover your side” slurred the lush.

Her eyes go steely, her body weight shift, right-hand clenches and pulls back. Hvitserk sees it. The fat fool does not. Her fist crunches against the nose. Making the crowd go silent. The satisfying crunch of his nose makes you smirk.

“BITCH!” He yells, covers his nose as blood spurts from it.

“Perhaps you should learn to cover your ugly face” She replies. Her voice is cold. The drunk lunges at her and she swiftly turns and catches her foot under his ankle, so he falls face first to the floor. The woman around her cheer. “drunk fool.” She raises her hand shift her hair back, rolls her eyes and peers into her now empty mug. “Such a waste of good mead.” She sighs dramatically and turns to her fellow shield maiden, they laugh and tell her to sit, they will get her more to celebrate the beautiful takedown. 

“Kára, here.” Lagertha motions her to the dais with a flick of her wrist. She puts her mug down, taking care to specifically step on top of the unconscious Viking and moves toward the Queen of Kattegat, she walks with such purpose past him and his brothers that her dress flutters behind as if a wind was present in the hall, and yet you cannot hear a sound of her boots on the floor. Hvitserk knows her name now. Hvitserk had seen her barely a hand full of times before, the day after Ubbe’s wedding when she had ridden in from Hedeby. Bjorn, Lagertha and Torvi were overjoyed to see her and had whisked her away quickly and warmly to catch up on all the goings-on in Hedeby. One of Lagertha’s prodigal shieldmaiden’s, rumour had it. Lagertha trained her especially when she was Earl there. “What is this I hear of you leaving your side open?”

Kára looks her straight in the eye something most do not have the gall to do but her familiarity with her teacher is evident. “I trained with Bjorn today, he pushed me. I needed practice against someone larger. To be faster.” Lagertha purses her lips. Her eyes travel down Kára’s figure, attempting to see how injured she is.

“Fine, continue. Have you decided what you will do when Bjorn leaves again, for England?” Hvitserk watches as Lagertha’s eyebrow twitch upwards the same as his. Raising the mug to his lips to avoid taking part in whatever conversation his brothers are having. Now drained he moves to get more near the dais to continue listening.

“I would go with him.” Kára accepts a mug of mead Torvi hands her. Torvi smiles approvingly.

“I would be proud to have you stand by the father of my children.”

“He is a good brother and leader, I learn much from him.” Kára nodded in response to Torvi.

“And here I thought your loyalties lay with me” Lagertha smiles. Kára smirks, tilting her head as she sees Bjorn come around from Harald and Halfdan.

“Don’t they? I stand with your son, and he is loyal to you.” Bjorn comes to stand by Torvi, his eldest sitting on his shoulders. Lagertha looks from Bjorn to Kára, her eyes narrowing,

“Is she ready?” She asks Bjorn. Kára looks offended, about to open her mouth to defend her skills. Bjorn sets a large a large hand on her shoulder, silencing her. Hvitserk’s eyes narrow, someone else is touching her with such familiarity irks him for some reason.

“There is nothing else to teach her here.” Lagertha sighs, she looks to Kára as she looks back in earnest, almost daring Lagertha to say no. “I know you treat her as if she is Gyda, but you know she is ready, she was ready to come when I went to the Mediterranean. You will not lose another daughter.” Torvi has taken Erik from Bjorn shoulders now, setting him on the floor in front on Lagertha. 

“Bring her back.” She eyes Bjorn. “and yourself, along with your brothers.” Lagertha’s gaze shifts over Bjorn’s shoulder to where Ivar and Sigurd argue, Ubbe standing with his arm around Margarethe as his other reaches out to flick Ivar upside the head, then her eyes land on Hvitserk. She raises a brow at him, and as she opens her mouth to call him out for eavesdropping Erik spots him and makes a straight run at him. Crouching, Hvitserk catches and swing the boy over his shoulder.

“Uncle Serk!” Erik giggles, the little boy’s arms and leg flailing playfully, his smile is infectious causing all at the dais to turn and smile to watch. The boy refused to say his proper name still, it does not matter to Hvitserk. Oddly, Erik has always preferred to stay with him, while Guthram, Torvi’s oldest prefers to stay with Ubbe. Pivoting on his foot to spin in a circle, creating more giggles from the little boy.

“Hvitserk, if he empties his dinner because of you, you’ll have to clean it up!” laughed Torvi.

“He’s too strong for that, aren’t you little man?” Hvitserk stopped spinning, pulling Erik in front of himself, perching him on his hip like an experienced nursemaid.

“Again! Again!” clapped the giggling boy. Depositing the mug on the dais instead and taking both hands under Erik’s arm and toss him high up in the air. Catching him Hvitserk spies Bjorn and toss Erik again, launching him straight back into the safety of his father’s arms. Erik’s peals of laughter do not stop now, joined by his grandmother, mother and father. Even Kára is watching, a softness in her eyes that he’d only seen when she is with Bjorn and Torvi’s children.

“Come meet my brother’s properly, Kára” Bjorn states as he swings Erik to his feet.

“Come Kára!” Erik grabs her hand and pulls her to Hvitserk. “This is Uncle Serk, he is almost as brave of a war-er as father. But you shoot arrows better than he does” the boy gives her a toothy grin. The softest hint of a smile touches her lips “Uncle Serk went with father to the med-, med–”

“Mediterranean,” Kára gently corrects, she’s let go of Erik’s hand and runs it gently through his hair. She looks up from his bright blonde hair directly into Hvitserk’s sky blue eyes, he’s never seen such piercing eyes, the bore into his soul, enrapturing him so he could not look away. “Bjorn has told me about your successes on the last raid. I look forward to fighting alongside you.” Her gaze breaks away from his to wander down his body, the stop at his hips and move back up to his face, her head tilts slightly, waiting for his response.

For the first time ever, Hvitserk has nothing to say. He wants to watch her all day and all night long. He had not the gall to be able to talk to her yet. Her head tilts the opposite way and her ebony hair tilts with her. He can feel his brothers’ eyes on him, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Torvi and Astrid grinning, almost laughing at him. Bjorn and Lagertha, watching him, waiting for him to respond. Hvitserk gulps, trying to breathe, ‘Pull yourself together man, she just a woman… who am jesting, she is a succubus.’ He thought, pulling in a deep breath he gathered himself. ‘Turn on your charm, simple. A woman is nothing in comparison to the challenges you’ve faced.’ and finally is able to open his mouth.

“I am Hvitserk, Erik only calls me Serk.” She gives a small nod, about to step away, he continues “Bjorn has told me of your prowess as a shieldmaiden, it will be fun to fight with you.” Her movements were so small, so precise, he admired it. Her strength is obvious. He felt drawn to her, like a moth to a flame. Nothing could tear him away if they tried.

“My thanks, I am eager to go out on my first raid.” He held out his hand, her eyes snap down to look at it. Her hand twitches in hesitation. She looks back in his eyes and sees them start to dance with mirth.

She’s willing to play this game. Let’s see where it leads. She settles her fingers in the calloused hand. Strong and tough from fighting, his grip is gentle. He brings her hand to lips, pressing his lips to her knuckles. His lips are warm, a little chapped. As his lips linger, he looks up, smirking a predatory gleam.

“Come meet my brothers.” He does not let go of your hand as he leads her to the other table. You turn towards the sons of Ragnar, all crowded together, watching you with Hvitserk so intently it causes a blush to rise from your neck. “This is Kára will be joining us in England. this my older brother Ubbe,” Ubbe reaches his arm out in a soldier’s greeting, gripping her forearm, and nodding to her. “his wife, Margarethe” Kara turns your head, nodding to acknowledge her, she grimly nods back. “my younger brother Sigurd,” Sigurd also reaches out his arm in a warrior’s greeting, he nods and rises grabbing his lute to move to another crowd of musicians playing. Lastly, Hvitserk gestures to the cripple brother, “and Ivar.” You reach out your arm in greeting again, only to receive a glare and smirk from Ivar.

“She already has you by the balls Hvitserk, she’s not even that pretty.”

“Watch your mouth Ivar!” Hvitserk hissed as he slams as his hand down on the table in the front blue-eyed boy.

“Now what would you know about what it is like to have someone handle your balls, your cruel reputation precedes you Ivar, what woman would want that. But still, I had expected better manners from a son of Queen Aslaug.” Kára heard a gasp from behind but looking away would take away the advantage she held over Ivar. He was gapping at new woman in front of him, then rage fills his face, his breath starts to labour. Before he can get a word out, she turns, “Hvitserk, it seems as though your brother is at a loss for words, perhaps we should get a drink instead, while he attempts to close his mouth?” She turns to face him, he is staring at her in wide-eyed wonder.

“As the lady wishes.” Hvitserk grins, he winds his arm around Kára’s waist and whisks her away. She glances over her shoulder at Bjorn, he smirks at her and sends her a wink. He had warned her not to take any shit from his brothers, especially Ivar. “You may have made an enemy of Ivar now, but it is most enjoyable to see someone put him in place for once.” Hvitserk states, his face, however, is grim. Kára steps back, but he follows, like the two of you are attached to a spell, it is overwhelming. Instead, she turns to grab two full mugs of mead. Hvitserk accepts one and both of you take a sip, he is watching his mug, deep in thought, Kára watches him in return. Unsure of what to expect. But the silence between you two in unbearable, even in a crowded and loud hall.

“Have I said something I should not have?” Watching him, intently his gaze lifts, as his grip on Kára’s hip tightens.

“Yes and no.” She gives him a puzzled look. He sighs, downs his mead and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. “Ivar is… well, Ivar. He is cruel and crazy. Bjorn can barely keep him in line. But you seem to have put him in his place. For that, I fear he may do something wicked to you.” She snorts as he refills the mugs.

“Let him try!” Kára’s voice rises indignantly, the mead is hitting her. Spiced and warm, it feeds her irritation and let her enjoy Hvitserk’s arm around her, leaning into it. “I can’t say I’d kill him since he is a prince, but it does not mean I will take his cruel words. I have worked too long to be strong, not just in battle.” She peers at him with such intensity, you can feel her blood heat under your hand. He looks back at you curious, waiting for you to continue, to explain. She realizes what she has said out loud, in anger, the blush grows in her cheeks. Hvitserk is unsure if it is the mead or emotions but he enjoys watching the colour grown on her face. She wraps both hands around the mug in front of her. Looking down into her mug. You see her expression change, she shakes her hair out a little and downs her mead. Setting her mug down she still hasn’t looked back up.

Hvitserk pulls her a little tighter to his body, he fits his fingertips under her chin, tilting her head up to look at him, forcing her to look directly at him. His eyes are asking her to keep going. As if he is actually interested in what she has to say. Kara wonders why it so easy to be with him. Has she been craved for the touch of someone so long now? She wants to be near him, to feel the sinewy muscle of him under her fingertips.

“Why am I attracted to this?! His emotions change so quickly they make my headache!” she thinks, “I’ve never wanted to be with anyone before. Why am I letting him hold me? I should go, before I get distracted, by his strong arms and his eyes watching me.”

“Come, we don’t need to be in here. Let’s get away from the hall.” He grabs his cloak off the peg on the wall and is wrapping you in it, you try and protest, but he is pulling her out of the hall. The large doors shut behind them and he takes a sharp turn to move towards the shore where light waves are lapping at the beach. Everything is moving too fast to comprehend what is going on, that it makes her dizzy.

“Hvitserk stop!” She yanks her arm out of his grip. He spins around sharply, planting himself in front her. His nose almost touches hers. He’s so close it makes her feel small, he’s looking at her so intensely everything else falls away. “Gods, what are you?” she whispers. “what have you done to me?”

“To you? You walked into that hall today, and I do not know who I am anymore.” He whispers, “what is this, between us?”

“I… don’t know” her gaze shifted down, not able to meet his. Hvitserk raises his hands, moving slowly he makes to cup her cheeks. And suddenly the spell is broken her eyes shift from fear to coldness, she back away quickly, out his reach.

“I have to go.” She can’t meet his eye, she turns and runs off. Hvitserk can’t even say a word. Dumb stuck by this woman who denied him, but he feels something. Not sure what he moves back towards the hall confused, attempting to understand what just happened. Distracted he almost runs straight into Bjorn carrying a now sleeping Erik and Refil in each arm as he is leaving. Torvi just behind him pulling a pouting Guthram. Taking one look at your face, Bjorn asks:

“What did you do?” Bjorn’s face has hardened, ready to tear him apart no matter on his answer.

“I don’t know…” Hvitserk says slowly. Bjorn looks closely at his middle brother. Raises an eyebrow for him to continue. “She looked like she did not want to be in the hall, so I brought her outside. But she just…ran off.” Bjorn hands Refil to Torvi and a half sleeping Erik of Guthram, commanding him to not trouble his mother and go to bed. “I’ll be honest Bjorn, I don’t know what it is with her. There is something there, pulling me to her.”

“Tell me you do not just want to bed her.”

“If that is what she wants, but…I want all of her. Brother, you know her. Tell what I can do! I’ve never known this or been lost like this. It is like I am a boat on the ocean and she is the sail. But now she is not there, and I am adrift.” Bjorn studies Hvitserk, slowly starting to grin, “what is that face Bjorn!? Stop it!” Bjorn is laughing at him now. “This is not funny brother!” 

“You are a young pup! Absolutely lost without its master!” Bjorn says through his laughs, “Give her time, talk to her, slowly.” His laughter quietens as he speaks, “She has been through many tests in her life, like us.” Bjorn swings his arm over Hvitserk’s shoulder in a companionable walk, moving towards his hut. “So, it seems to gods have plans for you brother. Keep in mind Hvitserk,” Bjorn’s grip tightened on his shoulders “you hurt her, you will answer to me. And my mother.” Reaching the door of his home with Torvi, Bjorn clapped Hvitserk hard on the shoulder. “Think with your heart little brother, not your cock.” With that said, Bjorn shut the door in his face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hvitserk needs answers after Kára ran away that night. Well, he will find some. But other want some answers as well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my brain keeps spilling things out and people actually like this story? I'll keep going? Enjoy!

Hvitserk pounded up the hill to where he knew Kára trained. He could hear a sword hacking away at a tree. As he rounded the corner to an empty grove, he stops short when faced with sharp teeth and blue eyes, not quite the eyes he wanted to see. The large wolf stood as tall as his hip, the whitest fur standing on end, lips pulled back showing deathly teeth, it was crouched, ready to attack him.

“Hello, mutt. What are you protecting?” Hvitserk, arms came up, slowly taking a step back. “I’m not here to harm you, do you have pups nearby?” Its growl only got louder as it stepped closer. He lowered a hand to his dagger, the large dog readied to hurl its body at him.

“Staðr, back down.” The wolf huffed, licked its teeth, and promptly sat down, its eyes still fixed on Hvitserk. “What are you doing here Hvitserk?” She’s standing beside the mutt, her hand comes down, he’s watching as her finger intertwine in the white fur. He does not answer right away, instead, drinking her in, her sword in one hand. The belt on her waist cinched tight to show her curvy figure, breasts still heaving from training. “Hvitserk!” she says sharply bringing him back.

“You ran off last night,” He states straightforwardly. He saw no point in beating around the bush. She did not seem to be one to want to play games for no reason. He starts to move towards her when Staðr growls again. She’s holding a sword in her other hand; the sun is glinting off of it. “Why? We need to figure out what this is” as he waves a hand between them.

“This” she emphasizes with a hand wave between them “is nothing.” She pivots away quickly, tugging on the mutt’s ear for it to follow.

“Kára!” He strides after her. Her sword swings up, pointed at the base of his throat. Instinct has his own hand on the hilt of his.

“Leave. Me. Alone.” her words come out punctuated, through clenched teeth. He can feel her anger and fear radiate off of her body. 

“Tell you what, I will challenge you for a chance to talk. You win, I’ll leave you alone. I win, we talk. And your mutt stays out of it.”

“If it will make you leave me alone.” she resigns.

“The first to draw blood then.” He smirks, her sword is already crescenting towards him. His axe comes to parry before it makes contact with his shoulder. She pulls back, switching her feet as the circle one another. Hvitserk’s cross rotates his blade in front of him, she pushed again, dealing blow after blow and he blocks each. Backing away again she lunges in, Hvitserk lets his blade slide along hers until they are hilt to hilt, she puts her other hand on the handle to hold herself against him. She is focused on holding her own, Hvitserk grabs her wrist holding her close and pulling her ankle out from underneath, they fall to the ground. Hvitserk rotating to take her weight on himself while tossing both their weapons away, he grabs her other wrist rolling again to put his weight on top of her. She’s trapped now, hands pinned above her head, her hips pushed down as he straddles her. She squirms underneath him, trying to break free, glaring she huffs and turn away. Leaning down, he runs the tip of his nose up her jaw until he whispers in her ear “caught you.” He pulls back as she turns back to look at him, the fire in her eyes is intoxicating. He can only think what she is like on a battlefield. “I don’t want to cut you. I don’t think I could.” he breathes against her skin. He’s watching her emotions flit through her eyes, anger to confusion, and then to defeat.

“Talk, I’ll listen, that does not mean I will answer your questions.” She snips, Hvitserk lifts his head, sitting up but keeping his knees tight around her hips. His hands let go of her wrists, trailing the tips of his fingers down her arms, her sides, her sides twitch slightly, and she takes a sharp breath. ‘Ticklish?’ he thought, his hands come to rest on his knees.

“Why are you avoiding me?” he asks quietly. His expression is insisting, searching for answers in her face, she still refuses to look him in the face, she stares at the sky above them stubbornly.

“Kára. Tell me.” He tries to keep his voice even now. “don’t you want to know what this?”

“What what is?” Denial. She still won’t look at him. He takes her chin in his hand, forcing her to look him in the eye.

“Whatever this is. When I touch you. When you touch me. Whatever it is that pulls me to you. For Odin’s sake do not lie to me that you do not feel this spell upon us.” She still watching him. Not saying anything his eyes narrow. Instead, her eyes flick towards the pup that moves towards them, he’s whining. Padding over to them he worms his head under Hvitserk’s arm to rest on his head on Kára’s torso, growling keeping one eye on him. Her hand sneaks down to rest on its snout, silencing him. Still watching, Hvitserk takes a different tactic. “Who’s this?” letting go of her chin he places his hand in front of the dog’s nose.

“Staðr” She’s finally looking at him. “He’s my family. I’ve had him since he was a pup.” A rough tongue comes out to lick his hand. “He was all by himself, like me.” She ran her fingers through the fur to scratch behind the wolf’s ears, his fingers followed.

“I don’t see any spots on him” She smiles.

“Not so stupid, are you?” Hvitserk huffed in response, she clicked her tongue and Staðr’s head shot up, ears rotating, she points at Hvitserk and the mutt’s head follows. There, in one eye is a dark brown spot. “He was the runt of a litter, I think his pack thought he was blind because of the spot so they tossed him into the forest to die. I found him and raised him.” She hand was running down the back of the wolf, Hvitserk’s hand follows through the snowy fur until their fingers meet, she let his fingers intertwined with hers. The mutt’s tail thumping against the grass.

“You feel it, don’t deny it. You want me, and I want you. There is some spell here between us. Let us find out what the gods want for us.”

“This is terrifying. Unknown. I don’t know what will come of it. I’d rather charge shield-less into a raid.” She whispers, as her eyes squeezed shut in frustration.

“You don’t what will happen in battle either.”

“But I know what I have to do there.”

“I don’t know what this is either, perhaps, we can find out together.”

“It has been so long since I’ve had someone else with me.” She sighs.

“What do you mean?”

“You have your brothers, Bjorn and Torvi, and their children, your mother and father. No matter how they were with you they were there. I did not have that.”

“You have Bjorn and Lagertha. I’m sure your mother and father care for you.”

“My mother is dead. As is my father. My uncle killed him.” Watching her still it is like she has put a shield in front of her as she looks again to the sky like she detaches herself from any emotion when speaking of the subject.

“I think the only way we will be able to find out what this is if to find out about each other.” Letting go of her hand he flopped down beside her to look at the sky. “You won’t be able to avoid me forever, we are going to have to fight together. Alongside my brothers, with Bjorn.” He crosses his arms behind his head and his ankles as his foot begin to sway.

“Fighting will not be an issue.” Turning to face him she studies his profile as he stares at the sky. “That I can do.”

“Then what will be?” He turns to her.

“How do we know what is right? I’ve watched you since you’ve returned. I don’t understand you, you… frighten me. For all that I have seen and not seen, anything I can imagine. You frighten me more than the gods.” 

“Me?” Hvitserk shows her the smile of an innocent child. “I do not think I could do anything to harm you. I could not even let my blade touch you…I cannot even bare for someone else touching you.” She snorts sitting up, the hound lopping off to chase a squirrel.

“You say this, but I’ve seen you with Margarethe. Ubbe’s wife. How you look at her.” She says with such disdain.

“Jealous, are you?” Hvitserk is grinning as though he just found the piles of gold hidden in a field. Kára is swinging her body over his now. A dagger pulled from her boot sitting on his throat. Hvitserk hasn’t moved at all, his foot still swaying, his body relaxed.

“If we are to follow on this,” she waves her hand between the two of them “I. DO. NOT. SHARE.” The dagger pushes down just a little more with every word out of her mouth. For the first time, she sees Hvitserk’s eyes become hard unlike the childish play that seems to be permanently there. So, serious.

“You have my word.” The dagger does not withdraw, it pushes down again. “I swear by the gods.” She pushes down again, pausing to watch him. Looking in his eyes, in his soul for the truth. But her instincts tell her to trust him, a voice in her head whispering that this should happen. Nimbly flips the dagger in her hand and slide it back into her boot. She moves to rolls away but his hands are on her hips, holding her there. “How do I know you will not run?”

“I am not the one trying to get under any woman’s skirt that moves.” She’s glaring at him, challenging him to deny the truth.

“I’ve touched no one since I’ve laid eyes on you.” His palms are running up and down her sides now.

“It will not be easy. Nothing ever is.” she murmurs, Hvitserk sits up quickly, holding her hips so she won’t fall back. She gasps at his sudden movement, her hands clutching his shoulders out of instinct not to fall away. One hand come up to around her neck, his thumb rubbing her cheekbone. His hands were rough but strong. They feel reassuring and solid. Safe. Something she has not felt in a long time.

“That does not matter.” He pulls her closer, their foreheads touch, and it feels like the world shifts. Nothing but the two of them in this grove. She let out a small, shuddering breath, she was trembling in his arms. Her hand snakes up his neck, fingers weaving into the soft hairs at the base of his skull. Her heart was beating so loudly she could hear it in her ears, she was sure he could hear it. They stayed like that until the sun had set. An unspoken connection between them. The wolf had lapped around again, came to sit down beside them and wiggle his head in between their bodies. Hvitserk pulled away some and laughed. “What? Do not like that I am so close your master now?”

“He has never let anyone get close to me. Not until they prove themselves. It took Bjorn a long time.” She left a hand on his neck and set the other behind Staðr’s ear. “It is part of the reason I am giving you a chance.”

“Because of your mutt?! Not my handsome face?” Hvitserk swipes a hand across his chin grinning. She smacked his shoulder.

“Watch yourself!” She tugs his hair forcing him to look back at her. “You have to be patient with me Hvitserk.” She whispers. A chill runs down his spine when his name drops from her lips. He likes the way her lips form his name. “I have never done this, if you want this, do not break my trust in you.” He pulls their foreheads to touch again.

“Let’s get you home, it is time for an evening meal. And I do not know about you, but I am need of something to eat.” He runs his hand up her waist and pinches her side. She squeaks like a mouse and almost falls out of his arms if he wasn’t holding her. She glares at him. Sighing she swings off of him and moves to collect the swords. Hvitserk leans back on his elbows, watching her move around the grotto. The wolf still sat beside him, watching him watch her.

Hvitserk pulled himself up as she came back towards him, tossing his sword hilt first he caught it, sheathing it. As she comes closer holding his fur cloak from last night. He tugs it from her hand. “Keep it.” He opens it up and pulls it over her shoulders. “It looks better on you.” She’s rolling her eyes.

“Such a dog,” as he clasps it. “You’re marking me like a wolf. Trying to show off that I am yours.”

“You are mine.” Tugging her close with the fastening. His nose just barely grazes hers.

“Food,” She says quickly, she pulls away as if burned. Grabbing his wrist, she clicks her tongue and Staðr races off ahead of them down the hill. They enter the great hall together, cause many heads to turn, with Kára wearing his cloak. She hangs it up, heading to the table, Bjorn is there talking to young Guthram, explaining something on a map when Staðr bounds over to boy toppling him over licking his face. 

“Ewwwwww Kára get him off!!!” Guthram’s hands sink into the thick fur but Staðr doesn’t move, tired of the pushing the hound flops down on top of him, easily pinning him to the floor. Erik after finishing his meal runs over putting himself on top of Staðr. The wolf rises with Erik clinging to his back and trots around the hall. Staðr stops on his second round of the hall right in front of Ivar and Ubbe.

“What hell is this?” The wolf growls at Ivar, Ubbe’s hand is about to pull his axe out.

“Staðr, here.” Kára calls, the wolf backs away slowly returning Erik to Kára. His eyes still on Ubbe’s. It’s unnerving when wolves match off against each other. It is the same for Ubbe and Staðr.

“What is that mutt doing in the hall?” Ubbe asks.

“That mutt is mine, touch him and I’ll slice you open, though I doubt you could catch him,” Kára says throwing Staðr a bone she finished pulling the meat off for herself. Hvitserk is impressed to see her stand up to anyone and everyone. Including her brothers. She does not let Ivar’s words affect her nor does she let Ubbe’s rank intimidate her. Maybe it is her relation with Bjorn that gives her confidence to say what she does. But there is something else. It reminds Hvitserk of her words last night. That she worked too hard to let anyone bring her down.

“Leave it brothers, our nephews like him, well Erik does,” Hvitserk responded with a mouth full of potatoes.

“I only like him when he does not sit on me.” Guthrum pouted. Ubbe ruffles his nephew’s hair as he pulls a plate towards himself.

“He only does it because he knows how much you do not like it” Kára winks as Guthram, “But I am sure he will stop after spending much time with while I am gone” she swings a leg over to straddle the bench. Leaning closer to look at Guthrum. “You’ll take care of him, won’t you?”

“Really?” Guthrum asks excitedly.

“If you take care of him, he will care and protect you.” She smiles. “And he’s known you since he was a pup and you were young.” She recalls when Guthrum had stayed with Lagertha when Torvi had first left with Bjorn. Kára was some summers older than him.

“Not bringing him? It would be very useful.” Bjorn turns to Kára

“I thought it best he stays with Torvi, an extra set of eyes and ears could not hurt. We will have many with us.”

“Very well,” Turning to the other side of the table to continue their conversation of who else has as Sigurd sits with Harald and Halfdan.

“Why is this whore here?” Ivar sneers, waves at Kára. “She is of no consequence to our plans.”

“Ivar,” Hvitserk says as he braced against the table. Hvitserk hears a sigh leave Kára behind him.

“Ivar, I would watch what you say. Kára is the sister you never had to meet, and you will respect her for that.”

“She has nothing to do with the father!”

“No, but she is my sister, and she means something to the queen of Kattegat and Hvitserk.” Bjorn rises to move on to the other end of the hall. Not before he palms Kára’s head in a brotherly fashion, musing her hair and tugging a braid as he goes. Kára, in turn, rolls her eyes at Bjorn back, turning back to Hvitserk she reaches out to trace a scar on the back of his hand which still clenched on the table.

“What does Bjorn mean Hvitserk?” ask Ubbe. In all the commotion Ivar causes, trust Ubbe to keep his cool and still want answers. Her eyes flick between the brothers, all intently watching the two, she glances an Hvitserk, his mouth full of chicken this time. She raises an eyebrow at him, he shrugs in return. She is not about to explain whatever this is that they still have not put a name to, to these other brothers that she barely knows.

“Brother?” Sigurd asks cautiously.

“They are your brothers, you tell them.” Kára sighs and moves towards a group of shield maidens coming into the hall. She knew better than to try and come between these brothers.

“Hvitserk, stop stuffing your face and tell us!” Growls Ivar. Banging a fist against the table. Leisurely Hvitserk picks up his drink, slowly chewing he takes a sip, swallows. A slow smile appears on his face. Deliberately placing his cup down slowly.

“Pass the ale brother.” Grabbing the pitcher, Ubbe holds it out of reach.

“Hvitserk.” Ubbe had been watching his brother the past two days, be distracted and confused. And bewildered that he had not come to talk to Ubbe about whatever was on his mind.

“The gods seem to have their own plans, as they always do.” Hvitserk holds out his cup.

“And how would you know, little brother, that this is Gods plan?” pouring the ale in the cup and in his own, Ubbe passes it along and tucks into the table as to hear a story.

“You remember the feeling of when Odin came to tell you that our father is dead.” Leaning forward on the table he places himself in front of Ubbe. “It is the same, except not bearing ill tidings. It is more than I have ever felt than with Margrethe. I have seen Kara in my dreams. I thought she was just any maiden and then she showed here. It is … unspeakable, not to be put into words.”

Anyone could see the wheels turning behind Ubbe’s eyes, but he does know his brother.

“Good, you’ll leave my wife alone, go bother yours.” Hvitserk spits out the remaining drink in his mouth, coughing at the mention of a wife. Of commitment. “What, not your wife?” chuckles Ubbe. Breathing again, Hvitserk glares at his brother. But the idea is not unappealing to Hvitserk. He had never thought he would ever want a woman enough to stay with just one. Kára, in his dream, was that, just a dream, something unattainable and of complete wonder. But she was real now.

“Not yet.” He responds, taking Ubbe, Sigurd and Ivar by surprise. Ubbe recovers from his shock first. 

“Then, skäl!” Ubbe says raising his glass, Sigurd returns the gesture, downing his drink. Ivar is sitting in front of Hvitserk, cup in hand but not raised. Hvitserk reaches his cup out, waiting for Ivar to respond. Ivar follows it with his eyes, then looking up at Hvitserk.

“Do not forget your brothers.” Ivar normally intimidating face has softened a bit, showing the Ivar the Boneless may at least have a heart.

“Never.” As their cups smack, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Hvitserk convinced her. But Kára is still one of Lagertha's shieldmaiden and he still doesn't really know anything about her!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hvitserk and Kára spend some time together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitely just a fluffy filler chapter. But I thought it was important to develop their relationship. Maybe some other ones? A shorter chapter but I had written this extra long and split in two. SO I'll have an update faster for chapter 4! Hopefully...

Chapter 3:  
Kattegat was bursting with warriors from all over Norway, Sweden and Denmark. So many had come that the city felt small now. With much preparation needed to be done Kára had easily been swept away. Navigating new people and places, she had reminisced with other shieldmaidens from Hedeby, made new acquaintances with other warriors. Bjorn had introduced her to Harald and Halfdan, the formidable brother duo. The weeks had been filled with training and stocking and everywhere she turned Hvitserk seemed to be there.  
After being by herself for these past years it was warming and flustering to have people around her again. She leant on a large rock watching the bustling marketplace. It was easier here to blend in with the yelling of many people and hubbub all around. Most people tended to either avoid her because the rather large wolf beside her or ignore her as she moved through the crowd with their own things to do. Hiding in plain sight was perfect. Until Hvitserk found her. She was used to Staðr following her around, but every time Hvitserk was in proximity of her the hairs on the back of her neck would stand on end. It was like she could seek him out no matter where he was. She wondered if it was the same for him, it definitely felt like it.  
Any moment they had Hvitserk seemed intent on finding all he could about her. They had spent evenings sitting at a warm fire talking. Most nights Bjorn and Torvi would sit with them, some nights Sigurd and Ubbe, Ivar begrudgingly came along because everyone would be there, even Floki. Bjorn and Hvitserk would tell tales of what they saw on their explorations. Sometimes Floki would tell stories of the Gods for all to hear. Kára liked to keep to herself mostly.  
Tonight, however, Hvitserk stayed away drinking with Sigurd on the other side of the hall. Kára sat with Lagertha, Astrid and Torvi. He had come late from the training ground and had not seen her all day. She was radiant in the firelight as she sat on the floor between Torvi’s legs. But the women sat chatting away. Torvi was braiding her hair while Staðr lay in front of her, the wolf’s large head on Kára’s lap her hands running through the thick fur. Hvitserk’s hands were itching to touch her skin. In all the time they had spoken, she had not let him touch more than her hand. They had trained a few times; their bodies would be pressed together but pulled apart so quickly. She was fierce in fight, not letting her small height be taken advantage of by using her speed instead. She was a beautiful shot, her skill with a bow rivalled even Ivar and Ubbe’s.   
He would watch Kára whenever he could. Like he did now. When he entered the hall, he saw her shoulder stiffen, but she refused to look up, watching her take a deep breath. Every time he would have to approach her. And when he did you could see her steel herself, nor would she let herself be alone with him, she was confounding. Bjorn had said to go slowly, she had even said to be patient. But this waiting was getting to Hvitserk. His fingers lightly drummed against the table, ignoring anything said around him. The only grace was that she continued to wear his cloak. Whenever needed it was on her shoulders, but it was not enough.  
Hvitserk thoughts are interrupted by seeing Kára rise from her place with the women. She skirted around the hall easily to pass Bjorn unnoticed. Halfway through the hall, she catches his eye, she stops, he can see her trying to make a decision, biting her plump lower lip. Slowly, her teeth let go and she minutely jerks head gesturing for him to follow. His face splits into a grin, maybe more progress has been made that he thought. Kára is meandering her way up the lane, Hvitserk easily catches her.

“Have you warmed to me?” Hvitserk grins, completely casual in his gait, swaggering alongside her as they make their way up the lane. 

“I am trying...” Kára’s hands clasped together behind her back, fidgeting. “I like when we share our dreams. It makes me hopeful.” She shrugs a shoulder; a small smile graces her face with a far-off look in her eye.

“Of what?”

“Of what I thought I would never have.” She can’t look at him, he eyes flit anywhere but to him. She is always watching. Like she never feels safe. His hand reaches out to take her face. Instead, she snatches it, flipping to face the palm up she examines it carefully.

“Why have you not washed this?!” she exclaimed, she stretches his palm in both her hands. Thumb tracing around the clotting gash that comes right across his hand. Her concern is all too pleasing, it’s been a long time since anyone have fussed over him.

“It is nothing,” he shrugs, playing off the wound. He caught a dagger flying too near his head by a young warrior during training. Needless to say, the young one learnt a good lesson when Hvitserk threw his axe back.

“Come let me wrap this before it festers!” Taking his wrist, she all but drags him along the path to her hut, the fire is warm with embers, her wolf had slipped in before makes itself comfortable in front of it. She pushes him down to sit on the bed. She turns away to gather things giving Hvitserk time to look around her home. Bed made neatly, not a tool or piece of clothing out of place. Pouches litter her table and a pestle and mortar; herbs and other plants are laid out on the table in orderly lines. She works quickly, creating a salve. Pushing her chair back she takes his injured hand again, washing it. It stings, but Hvitserk can only watch her face while she works precisely, going through the motions efficiently, using her gentle hands to apply the paste. “Stay.” She commands and moves away again, taking a clean cloth ripping a strip and tightly winding it around his hand. “Try not to get much dirt on it and it should be better in a day,” she says, and she ties a knot. For the first time, she looks up at him and smiles. A true smile that reaches her eyes. Their eyes meet and then she realizes again whom she is helping. She promptly dropped his hand, he grabs her before she can pull away.

“Thank you” he beams. His hand warms hers, thumb rubbing over her knuckles. She didn’t pull away. But she sat frozen as if waiting to react whatever he would do. “So, will you tell why you very carefully have been avoiding me?” Hvitserk was never one to beat around the bush. He’d rather ask the questions needed or just do what he wanted.

“I don’t.” She pulls away to dump the water out the window.

“But you do!” Hvitserk insists. She is insecure about something. There is much she is not telling, and he will not be going to Bjorn to find out like he would tell anyway.

“You said you would be patient with me.” As she turns back to the table, she’s moves plants around but not actually doing anything.

“I am, but you will not give me a chance.” She still looks out the window as he slides beside her. She just reaches his shoulder in height. If he were standing behind her he could prop his head atop hers. “You never have let me be with you alone since that day. Why?”

“You still frighten me.” She whispers, her head leans down, eyes closed, her shoulders rise in a deep breath she takes. Hvitserk slips his injured hand to cup her face as he perches on the table.

“Why?” His eyes narrowed, her eyes are still closed she leans her face in his hand, the coarse cloth rubbing against her cheek, the heat of his hand seeping through her skin, making sparks run down her spine. Whenever their skin touched it was like fire lit between them.

“I… do not want to.” She hesitates, her eyes open to his now. Showing such innocence, but indecision.

“Then let me show you.” He leans forward, for their foreheads to touch rolling his head softly against hers, his fingers skim down from her neck, suddenly he pinches her side, she jerks away. He brings both hands now, tickling her sides to make her squirm until she is belly laughing, gasping his name. Her laugh is pure, full of joy that would have anyone smiling should they hear it. She is breathlessly trying to get away from him “How could I frighten you when all I want is to hear you laugh.” He grins pulling her tight to his chest. Her arms are tucked in close, but she fits perfectly. She pulls away to look at his face, studying him still breathing hard and playfully glaring at him. Trepidation is plain on her face still, but less guarded. He would rather see some emotion on her face than none. Her safe guardedness had been mysterious at first, but now it was irritating. “Come,” he waddles backwards until his calves hit the low bed, promptly falling back pulling her with him. He moves to shift them into the middle of the bed. Her eyebrows crinkle making him stop. “What?”

“I would prefer not to have your muddy boots on my bed.” She grumbles. Looking down at the offending shoes. He smiles, she’s finally said something normal to him. Nothing of her vague diplomatic responses.

“What else do you not like?” he asks as he removes his boots chucking them by the fire, Staðr huffing when one landed too near him. She had slipped her off as well placing them neatly at the foot of her bed.

“What do you mean?” She pulls herself back to rest again the wooden headboard,

“I mean in all this time you have spoken nothing of yourself or your past. Nor do you let me touch your skin. Is my touch not inviting?”

“Just because we are supposedly fated does not mean I must give myself to you outright.” Her anger flares, she tucks her knees up before he flops down on the bed in front of her. He’s made himself comfortable in her bed and she does like to see him there rather than chasing someone else’s skirts. He may not have taken any other woman to bed, or so he said, but she knew she had no right to be possessive over him. “I am a free woman.” She glares and continues, lifting her foot to prod his shoulder. Before it lands, his hand captures her ankle. Pulling her sock off, he examines her dainty foot, her toes point in an effort to shake of his grip.  
“Hvitserk...” Her leg jerks again, foot arching elegantly. His skin on her burns. The hand follows up her calf, along her thigh. Stopping mid-way and roaming back down to her foot. He rolls closer to her. Resting his head on her now outstretched thigh. He wiggles making himself cosy on the furs using her leg as a pillow.  
Her hand hover, not sure where to place it. Slowly her hand lowers to rest on his chest. It baffles Hvitserk how such a warrior like her can be like a deer sometimes.

“You said to be patient Kára,” He takes her hand from his chest to touch his lips. The gentle kiss is almost too sweet. Before returning their hands to rest on his chest “Fine. But you did not say to never be near you. You cannot ask that of me.” He says matter of factly

“I am just not used having someone with me all the time.” Her hand squeezes his in a hope that he’ll understand. “I have been by myself for a long time.” He opens one eye to watch expression.

“Then tell me of it.” He says with nonchalance, closing his eyes again “Then you will not bear it alone.” She tries to pull her hand away, but he grips tighter. “Tell me about your family.” He won’t let go of her hand, nor does she want to. She hesitates again, taking a deep breath she begins to talk.

“My father’s mother taught me the way of healing herbs.” Her eyes glaze over in memory as she squeezes his injured hand. “She was perfectly named as Akelja.” She smiled, holding old memories. “She used to yell at me all the time, fine bang around like the men, but you’ll still learn the ways of the gods and the earth!” Kára’s relaxed against the headboard, leaning her head back in content. “I miss them, I miss having a family.” She sighs. “I’ve seen you in my dreams. I think.” His eyes watch her carefully. “You had very golden hair as a child. You were sitting in front of your father on a horse.” 

“I’ve seen you as well” he grins. “I thought it was just an odd dream of Bjorn since I was with him. But you must have been a girl still. He was teaching you to shoot a bow. But I could not see your full face. Only the side.” 

“Bjorn did teach me to shoot a bow. He would always check on my skills whenever he came to Hedeby to see Lagertha.” She confirms.

She needs answers. A trip to the seer was in order. But that would make everything real. Or everything false, and at this point in time, Kara did not want either. As much as Hvitserk frightened her he made her feel whole.   
They sat in silence now, it wasn’t terrifying anymore, but it was not a comfortable either. Gently, she traces a single finger down his cheek instead.

“You still have cheeks like a child” She teases change the subject, as she pinches his cheek, withdrawing her hand quickly when he turns to try and nip her hand. He pouts at her, the face he makes causes her to giggle.

“Well, you have the height of a child!” He retorts. “I could carry you over my shoulder easily.”

“My size may be small, but I am fast!” She sticks her tongue at him. He shoots up making a play to bite near her mouth, clicking his teeth. He surrounds her on his hands and knees, his nose just barely brushes against hers.

“Hmm, are you now?” His eyes glimmer with mischief. For Kára his presence was no longer all-encompassing, it is comforting. For Hvitserk, she’s like gravity, an unmistakable pull. The shift is startling and comforting all at the same time. Like the Gods are playing with them, pulling their emotions in all different directions at the same time. 

“Hello,” Her head tilts up, she has nothing else to say in her awkwardness. Hvitserk grins back.

“Hello” he whispers back, she feels his breath on her face as he leans forward. He waits just before his lips touch hers, seeing if she’ll turn him away. Her tongue pokes out, wetting her lips before reaching up carefully meet his. Her lips are the softest he’s ever had the pleasure of kissing. She tastes like sweet mead. Her tongue swipes his lower lip curiously, encouraging Hvitserk to pour more into the kiss, lowering himself half on top of her body as to not squish her. Pulling her tight to him, he delves deeper into her mouth. She felt like she was melting, if she hadn’t been lying down already her knees would have given out. His hands surround her face, pulling as close as possible. Finally, they pull away, both panting for breath. He surges forward taking her lower lip nibbling as quickly as he can recover, he hurriedly unbuckles her belt and tosses it away. Her hands distractedly wind into his hair. His hands move under her shirt, before he can she pushes away grabbing his hands to stop him.

“What is it?” Hvitserk asks, confusion evident on his face. Her body is shaking, and not in a way Hvitserk with have her trembling in need. In fear. She doesn’t answer, just shuffles back more her hand squeezing his wrist. Reminding him of a wounded animal. Her hair shifts to hide her face.

“Do not hide from me.” As he twists his wrist out of grip pulling her hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Hide from everyone else if you must. But you do not hide from me.” He whispers as her hand cups her cheek. “You are much more.” Hvitserk eludes the insecurities that seem to be holding her back from being with him. 

“You are too.” She says quietly. “Much more than just a Ragnarsson.” He blinks back at her doe-eyed. No one had ever said that to him. No one had seen him as more than Bjorn and Ubbe’s brother, more than Sigurd’s and Ivar’s older brother. But she did. He hauls them closer together, tucking her head under his chin and inhaling her scent, her hair smells of sweet meadow flowers.

“Gods woman.” Hvitserk sighs and he can feel her body relax against his. “Who are you?” as his eyelids fall shut.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She walked into the great hall that night and all Hvitserk could think was that he needed to know who she was because she would be his. He had seen visions of her in his dreams. The gods had sent her right to him and he wasn’t about to let anyone else have her. But what did the gods want for them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've disappeared for a little. I'm back though!

The sun filtered through the still open window that morning right on Kára’s face. Groaning she turned in the bed trying to cocoon further into the warm furs, instead she rolls right into Hvitserk’s hard body. Normally it’s Staðr warm fur that is beside her but there is not fur this time. Still half asleep she doesn’t realize and nestles closer to Hvitserk’s side. Kára was definitely not a morning person. Hvitserk eyes had opened the moment the roosters had crowed, he lay in bed though, watching Kára sleep. She slept like a babe, no worries on her face, no tension in her shoulders, enjoying the feel of her soft skinned mid-section under his palms. At some point last night her shirt had ridden up and Hvitserk was not about letting go of her unless he absolutely needed to.

Kára was still not fully awake, whining she hid her face in the crook of Hvitserk’s collarbone. Sometime last night, half asleep, he’d rid himself of his shirt and vest, though he’d rather be wearing nothing, especially with a woman lying with him, her reaction yesterday made him rethink it. He’d have to find out what it was that kept her from being with him. He would take any precaution to keep her with him. And he didn’t know why he felt this way. It just was.

“KÁRA!” Bjorn’s voice boomed from just outside the open window, she shot up from the bed, clipping Hvitserk’s chin in the process.

“WHAT?” She snarls clutching her head with both hands at the same time glaring at Bjorn, his body taking up the majority of the open frame. He casually leans in to see Hvitserk lying in her bed, rubbing his jaw from the solid hit of her head. It amused Hvitserk greatly that in all her tininess, still half asleep, and mussed hair she yells back at Bjorn Ironside. In turn, it amused Bjorn to see Hvitserk in her bed, more so after their previous conversation, at least on the inside.

“Still sleeping well past when the sun is high.” Bjorn grouches, “I’ll need you to go see to any herbs needed for our journey, you’ve saved me from finding Hvitserk this morning as well. Docks.” He points at Hvitserk, “Ubbe is already there.” With only two days left to leave, it was amazing the Bjorn was not just angry all the time. Though he was mostly, Kára thinks as she grumpily glares at Bjorn’s retreating back. Hvitserk uses the distraction to snuggle his face into her shoulder, wrapping his arms loosely around her around hips. She freezes at first as if from the contact but relaxes just quickly, his breath down her neck has gooseflesh rising on the back of her neck. She reclines against him slightly, resting her cheek on his soft hair just so.

“I’m sorry about your chin.” She says softly. “Lagertha says I have a harder head than Bjorn most of the time.” She can feel Hvitserk’s lips curve into a smile against her neck.

“It is fairly hard.” As his head bumps the side of her head playfully, before untangling himself and rising to find his boots. Kára watches him move around her space, the lines of his tattoo sit dark against his skin, thick trails of colour down shoulder blade to elbow. He bends to wrestle away a boot away from Staðr, his bare back is a sight, the lean muscle stretches the expanse, shoulders to trousers that were swung low on his hips. He peeks over his shoulder smirking to see her watching him. He peacocks, stretching his arms before reaching for his shirt, slowly turning to her. She quickly turns and combs her fingers through her long locks, deftly separating and braiding them out of the way, avoiding making eye contact with him thinking that she wasn’t caught staring. Ruffling Staðr’s head Hvitserk moves back to her, his shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“Come train with us today.” He suggests, he loved to see her move, it made him think how she would move underneath him. Her lithe body pinned to furs on his bed, how her arms would stretch and back would bow. Her legs would squeeze to his hips.

“I think I will after I’ve dealt with the rest of the chores.” She smiled timidly. She was slowly relaxing around him, the time it was taking was driving Hvitserk a little insane, the distraction of war only keeping him at bay. She drops the long braid over her shoulder, standing up, her aura shifts. Like she’s put on armour. He thumbs her cheek with a smile then makes his way out the door. Staðr deciding he likes the man and follows Hvitserk.

“Hvitserk?” She calls out leaning through the open window. He backtracks to leans his long arms to hang off the top window sill. “Thank you.” She whispers as she raises on her toes just a bit to plant an innocent kiss at the corner of his lips. Hvitserk turns to take hold of her head in his hand and shifts to possessively take her mouth. He pulls back all too pleased with himself seeing her somewhat dazed, then turns heel to start his day.

Kára shakes her head as she moves around her home to ready.. Having Hvitserk around makes her not feel alone. While Bjorn and Lagertha and Torvi would never fault her for being with them and counting her as part of their family, she felt she was invading their space, or being a needlessly extra oar.

The day passed rather quickly. Oddly Kára found herself in the company of Halfdan the Black. They had been introduced earlier, and he had to give her a hand with packing healing supplies, on his request to be able to hide away from his brooding brother Harald. Apparently, Harald was lovesick over an old flame that arrived with a new husband. To Kára it did not matter, Halfdan was easy company, he joked lots and made fun of other warriors, complained about his brother and spoke of previous battles. She never would have guessed that he would be quite so talkative but he was. She had only run into Hvitserk once during the day. He had the strangest look on his face. One she could not place. She gave him a small smile as she was beckoned away by Bjorn, to use her for something else.

Hvitserk sometimes thought Bjorn was doing so on purpose.

As every night Kára landed herself in the great hall. Today though she sat with just Torvi, while she calmed an agitated Refil. A loud crash behind them reveals Guthrum and Erik fighting on the floor, Guthrum promptly sitting on Erik. Sighing, Torvi places baby Refil on Kára’s lap and moves to separate her other two children. Instinct has Kára adjusting to support the weight of the babe in both her arms. Refil coos contently as Kára stands to rock back and forth to keep his cries at bay. Torvi is dragging Guthrum away by the ear as Ubbe and Hvitserk come into the hall, Staðr at Hvitserk’s heels, the wolf had taken an easy liking to follow the brother’s around, mostly because it knew food would always be tossed to him. Staðr cuddles around a hiccupping and sombre Erik, nudging him forward.

“Wrestling again?” Ubbe smirks as Hvitserk takes Kára’s vacated chair, Erik plops himself down between the chairs still rubbing the tears away from his face. Kára nods and glances at Hvitserk, he’s watching her hungrily again, it is like that is his permanent expression. The sight of a babe in her arms is tantalizing. Hvitserk’s arms are moving before he even realizes to snag her hips and pull her and the little one to sit on his lap. She can’t deny him since any jostling would disturb the finally calm infant. Instead, she twists sideways to swing her legs over the arm of the chair, she rests the child on her now inclined thighs, carefully keeping both hands on the swaddled little body in case it tried to squirm away. Hvitserk’s arm casually swings over her knees and the other around her back in support.

“Well someone has made themselves comfortable.” Sneers Ivar, as his pulling hooks punch into the ground with every drag he makes. Kára ignores him carefully adjusting the blankets instead, using the movement to avoid any conflict with youngest Ragnarsson. In the time Kára had spent with all the boys she preferred Ubbe’s company if she was not with Hvitserk or Bjorn. Ivar and Sigurd argued too much, she had mentioned it once in passing to Torvi, stating that she didn’t feel that both younger men did not appreciate the fact that the had family at least. Torvi only gave Kára a sad smile and changed the topic.

“Oh, is little baby jealous that he’s not getting all the attention?” Goads Sigurd, Kára can see Ubbe roll his eyes at his brothers the same time she feels Hvitserk’s sigh leave his chest. Ivar and Sigurd’s bickering only continues to get louder and louder until a small dagger flies between them landing just in front of Ivar’s hand.

Kára’s arm hung extended straight out, her other hand firmly spread over the babe to keep in place. Hvitserk’s arm flexed around woman and child keeping them securely on his lap automatically.

“Shut. Up.” Kára glares coldly, “you’ll wake Refil.” As she flicks her fingers elegantly asking for the dagger back. “Gods, you squabble like spoilt children.” As Sigurd pouts but still returns her dagger, which she easily slips back into her boot, as Sigurd moves out of the hall, purposefully jumping over Ivar to piss him off more. Hvitserk is unfazed by his brothers arguing that he doesn’t bother to say anything, just moves to rub Refil’s head.

“Woman you cannot tell me what to do” Ivar growls again, “Stop treating me like a child!” He yells causing Refil to fuss. Hvitserk’s hand comes up to cover hers now, rubbing the babe until it settles. Before Ubbe can intervene in this newly growing argument, Kára is snapping back.

“Then do not act like one.” Her eyes narrow at Ivar. She goes on before Ivar can even get a word in. “You think you are the only person who wants revenge for deeds done to them? You think you are the only one who needs to prove themselves? There is such a thing as grace Ivar, of which you do not have.” Kára cradles baby Refil to her chest in an effort to soothe the startled child. Ubbe tries to intervene again but Torvi and Margarethe arrive just in time to interrupt them.

“I see you are not letting Ivar get to you.” Smiles Torvi as she scoops Erik from the floor to console the still sad boy. Hvitserk wraps Kára and the child in his arms tight, Kára is eyeing Ivar hoisting himself up on a chair. Margarethe hovers behind Ubbe’s chair, glaring at Kára so cozily curled in Hvitserk’s lap with a child no less, confusion and angry reigned the eyes of the petite blonde.

“You did not come train with us today,” Hvitserk says somewhat disappointed, changing the subject before another argument surfaces.

“I was asked to help with the sacrifice preparations after I finished with the healing herbs with Floki—”

“Well, aren’t you just making yourself a place with everyone” Interrupts Ivar, his teeth clenched. calculating watching his brothers and their women. “Even Margarethe does not like you. Though it is to be expected when you have taken her man.” Ivar grins maliciously. “Well, one of them at least.” Kára’s shoulders stiffen under Hvitserk’s arm, as her gaze shifts back to babe, avoiding all the men in the room. Her face strategically becomes blank, hands fidgeting with Refil’s blankets, as she tries to move away from Hvitserk’s hold, but his embrace remains strong on her so that she can not move away.

“Ivar.” Ubbe admonishes as fear replaces Margarethe expression for being mentioned by Ivar.

“Come, we must get ready for tonight’s sacrifice, we must send you all with many blessings,” Torvi commands, efficiently ending the conversation, as she scoops baby Refil in her arm and takes Erik’s small hand to lead the boy away, prompting everyone else to disperse. Hvitserk makes no motion to move, holding Kára firmly in place.

“Why were you with Halfdan today?” Hvitserk asks quickly as the room clears, his grip on her harden. His arms locking her in place on his lap. Her legs could not swing down.

“He was keeping me company while I worked,” her head tilted innocently, “and avoiding his pouting brother,” she smirked shaking her head with a roll of her eyes.

“Did he not have matters to attend to?” Hvitserk’s eyes narrow. She shrugged in response and shifted to rise. He holds her steadfast against his chest. “You can not trust him.” As he takes her chin in hand to look her in the eye. It is the first time Kára has seen Hvitserk serious in any way.

“Why?” she asks as her brow furrows, as her hand slowly sneaks upwards to fiddle with the necklace he always wore.

“Harald may be an ally, but his goal has always been to be King of all Norway,” Hvitserk says as he gaze breaks from hers to scan the now empty hall. “His brother is a most loyal man.”

“A brother’s intentions are not always the same,” she says glancing over her shoulder on reflex as he watches the door.

“Perhaps not,” his eyes fall back on hers, a hungry sits there, almost angry? Kára can’t quite put her finger on it. “But I still do not like him being so friendly with you.” Kára blinked owlishly at him. Slowly she starts to grin, sitting up straighter, eyes widening. She realized, he’s jealous.

“Are you jealous of me working with Halfdan?” Kára asks fascinated, Hvitserk huffs and slouches a little lower in his seat making Kára roll towards him, her chest presses to his as his hands keep her body tight against him. Instead, Hvitserk buries into her neck, leaving small bites along her neck. His distraction obvious but not unwelcome.

“Hmmmmm” she moans, “Hvitserk we have to g–” she’s cut off as Hvitserk suck hard just under her ear. She squeaks, wanting to pull away but only holds on tighter to his shirt. He finally lets go, lick his lips looking at her. His devious gaze holds hunger, and possessiveness under his playfulness.

“You should wear a warm cloak tonight sváss,” running his fingers over where in a few minutes a bright purple hickey would form. “It will be cold.”

“You mean your cloak.” Her eyes narrow, he hums in response taking her mouth in his. Hvitserk is sucking on her bottom lip as Astrid strolls into the hall. An exasperated sigh leaves her lips as she chucks an emerald green dress at the couple making out on the chair, turning heel and heading back to Lagertha’s quarters. Blushing Kára gathers up the dress and makes to rise. Hvitserk holds fast cupping her face, she can feel cloth covering his cut from yesterday, which is now wet. Taking his hand in hers she shakes her head with a sigh.

“You just don’t listen do you?” as she tilts her head with a very unimpressed expression.

“No, sváss” he grins cheekily. “I do not. ” Kára’s brow furrows at Hvitserk’s words.

“I am not sweet.” Hvitserk hums running the tip of his nose up her neck.

“But you taste sweet.” He responds cheekily. Kára cheeks turn a tinge of red, as she gathers up the dress and pulls away from him. Hvitserk drags her back just as she stands moving quickly to take her lips, she swiftly turns her head so his lips land on her cheek. Giving him a playful stink eye she unwinds his arms from her waist rising as she shakes her head walks towards the door whistling for Staðr, she just barely peeks over her shoulder at him before she turns out the door.

Crossing her arms she hugs the dress to her body making her way to change for the evening. As she sunk lower into the bath she smiled, Kára could only think of how warm she felt not from the water but from Hvitserk, after so long did she feel comfortable around a man romantically. She honestly had barely had time when she was in Hedeby, she spent her time taking care of her grandmother after her father and grandfather had passed on. It had taken her a long time to be with a man in general after what had happened to her. But she refused to let it make her small. With Hvitserk, gods she wanted to be devoured by him.

She dressed quickly in the deep forest green dress, tying it tightly with a belt, she carefully braided the front of hair with the fine chains her mother had left her, just as she was taught by her father’s mother. She was finishing lining her eyes with dark kohl when Hvitserk barges through the door without an invitation, his cheeky grin plastered on his face.

“What are you doing?” Kára asks, “we have to go” She straightens her dress and belt looking up.

“Bringing you with me, sváss.” he snags his well-worn clock off the chair and secures it around her shoulders. It matches him, though he is much more princely, with a bigger fur and royal green cloth instead of the faded blue of now her cloak. His fingers skim along her cheek and down her arm, he takes her small hand in his.

“You know you do not have to.”

“That does not matter. I want to.” And Hvitserk all but drags Kára out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like!

**Author's Note:**

> So as I said my first attempt at writing fanfiction. I'd love some constructive criticism or if someone could point in the direction of some good tips!


End file.
